What Makes a Brother
by Ranger89
Summary: Mal considers on kind of brother Simon is.


Disclaimer: I don't own Firefly, I just like playing in Joss' sandbox now and then.   
  
Synopsis: After seeing Simon pulling an all-nighter in the infirmary, Mal does a little reflecting on what kind of brother the doctor is.   
  
What Makes a Brother:  
  
Malcolm Reynolds stopped mid stride as he heard a noise coming from somewhere up ahead. He had been on his way to his bunk, thinking he was the only crew member still awake. Ducking through the dinning hall, he tried to think of who might be up at this god awful hour. Jayne could be snooping around, though he thought he had cured the mercenary of his late night pillaging long ago. Zoe and Wash had skipped off to their quarters a few hours before and weren't likely to be coming out any time soon. Since getting married, they seemed to have formed a fondness for turning in early. Preacher and Kaylee weren't known for late night carousing, either. That pretty much left Inara, and she had left that afternoon on a 'job.'   
  
His curiosity getting the better of him, the captain was a little surprised to find that Simon Tam was his late night confederate. The doctor was standing in the middle of his infirmary, arms crossed over his chest. His black hair was a tousled mess, and his usually pressed and starched clothes were rumpled.   
  
Mal crouched down in the shadows of the hallway as he watched the doctor push his sleeves up before scrubbing a hand across his face in obvious frustration. Simon looked like an ad for the walking dead. Dark circles around his eyes stood out sharply against his paler-than-normal skin.   
  
The captain's eyes followed Simon as he walked over to one of the computer screens and scrolled through some of the text. The doctor stood there reading for a long moment before turning the screen off abruptly. Mal was a little startled to see him spin around unexpectedly and slam his fist into the back of the medical bed standing in the middle of the room.   
  
Always knew the boy had a temper, Mal thought to himself, slightly amused by the display. His smirk disappeared quickly, however, as the doctor began to speak.  
  
"Patient shows no reaction to the drugs administered," Simon related into a small recording device he had pulled from his pocket. "She continues to act erratically, at best, and her mental state remains unpredictable."  
  
After spending years on the battle field, Mal easily detected the sound of desperation in the young man's voice. Looking the doctor over closely, he noticed that Simon's hands were shaking and his whole body seemed to be swaying back and forth.   
  
I need to have a talk with him about his sleeping habits. A doctor should know better than to let himself get sick.  
  
"While at times she is able to speak and react with clarity, the majority of the time she is violent or unintelligible. It is obvious she still retains the ability to comprehend, but information seems to become distorted as it is processed through by her brain."  
  
The captain jumped slightly as Simon stopped the recorder abruptly. The younger man tossed the device onto a nearby counter unceremoniously before slouching against the medical bed. His head dropped as he pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a heavy sigh.   
  
"What do you think you're doing, Tam," he said to himself. "It's been six months, and she's no better now than she was when she came out of that place."  
  
Mal watched the doctor wrestle with himself, waiting for the breakdown that was certain to follow. He had seen this type of thing on the battle field many times before. He had come very close to this point himself, and if the war had continued much longer, he might have reached it. Obviously, Simon had been going though a little battle of his own, and he had finally reached the end of his rope. Now, it was going to snap. Or, at least, that's what the captain thought.   
  
"No!"   
  
Mal jumped for the second time that night as the doctor hissed the word with a venom he hadn't thought Simon capable of.   
  
"I'm her only hope. I can't give up on her after we've come this far."  
  
Whether it was by sheer will power, or some other unknown strength, Simon shook himself violently and pushed himself off the bed with a forceful shove. He reached over and grabbed his recorder again, pushing the start button.  
  
"I begin a new round of treatment with Tetrol tomorrow. While my supply is limited, if it proves helpful, more will be found."  
  
Shutting off the device one last time, Simon closed his eyes, letting out a breath slowly. Reaching up, he grabbed a medical text off a nearby shelf. He placed the recorder down, moved passed the infirmary doors, and into the common area. Collapsing on the couch in exhaustion, he opened the book. As he spread it gently across his knees, he slowly began to pour over it with a kind of dogged intensity Mal had rarely seen. Suddenly, the captain understood just how the doctor had managed to get into that top three percent of his class.  
  
After a few long minutes, Malcolm Reynolds stood up and moved back down the hall noiselessly, leaving Simon to his reading. Passing through the dinning hall once more, he came to his room. He reached out, pushed the door open, and landed below with a muffled thud.   
  
He had always known that Simon wasn't a coward. The boy had proven his courage a time or two since he came onboard. He also knew Simon was a was good at what he did. And, Mal had thought he knew, perhaps even understood, Simon's loyalty to his sister. But, that's where he had been wrong. What he had seen tonight had surprised him.   
  
And he wasn't the type of man that surprised easily.   
  
Mal had never really grasped the true lengths Simon would have gone for his sibling until tonight. For the first time, he realized that the boy would have walked into hell itself to save River, giving his life in the process if he had had to.  
  
He did give his live, in a way, Mal thought, imagining all that the doctor had give up for that moon brained girl. His family, his friends, his future, every dream he had ever had. All to save a sister that still had trouble remembering her own name.   
  
While my supply is limited, if it proves helpful, more will be found.  
  
Those words played in Malcolm's head as he laid down on his bunk. The determination that had filled the doctor's voice still resounded through his head. He knew the words were true. If the medicine would help River, Simon would do anything to get it. Even sell his soul if he had to.  
  
Because that was who Simon was. For him, being a brother wasn't just about remembering his sister's birthday, play tea party, or letting her borrow his stuff.   
  
To Simon, being a brother was about always being there, no matter what. Always picking up the pieces and putting them back together. Always fighting away her demons. Always giving his everything, even when he didn't have anything left to give.   
  
To Simon Tam, begin a brother was like being a guardian angel. A protector, a shield... a savior.   
  
Mal ran a hand through his hair, his eyes locked on the ceiling as recent revelations about his ship's doctor ran through his head.   
  
River, I hope you know just how ruttin' lucky you are to have a brother like Simon Tam, he thought suddenly.  
  
And, if he hadn't know better, he could have sworn he heard a voice in the back of his head answer back.   
  
"I do." 


End file.
